Thursday, April 30, 2009

Making People Uncomfortable #2

This one works well with ex-boyfriends (or ex-girlfriends if you so happen to be a man/lesbian) but I'd suggest waiting a month or so to reduce suspicion and avoid a War-of-the-Roses type of thing.

The Yellow Page's website is amazing. Look up any business entry and you can get the details texted to your mobile phone for free. Go to and look up the most embarrassing business possible. Tailor it to your victim. If the man in question is a homophobic jock, send him the business details of a gay escort agency that specialises in trannies. If he is a bit of a player, try a dermatologist specialising in STD lesions. Send it at a time that other people are going to be around. Preferably on a first date with that bitch he was eyeing during the entire course of your relationship.

PS: This also works well with mailing lists. If your ex was a staunch, right wing conservative, sign a petition for one of those student-run socialist groups. Pretend to be your ex, and list their full name, address, email and phone number. Trust me, they'll be hounded for years.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Making People Uncomfortable #1

Sometimes I'll be walking on the sidewalk, and I'll see someone in the corner of my eye trying to overtake me. It's unspoken sidewalk etiquette to purposely slow down for a few strides so the overtaker can get a head start on the overtakee.

Next time this happens, try to keep abreast with the person. Turn and smile and them. If they speed up, rev up your engines and keep up. If they slow down, match their speed. Once you have mastered this, you can even try syncronising your strides with theirs. This works really well on moderately empty streets (e.g. the CBD around 2pm) and it seems to agitate businessmen the most. It doesn't work very well on prostitutes or Hells Angels.

Happy infuriating.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Second hand karma

I adore op shops. I love how my fingers get dirty after pawing through racks of random clothes (although I do feel so inclined to wash my hands, in case I catch tuberculosis). I marvel at how cheap the little old ladies price things (two dollar leather pencil skirt, wheeee). I also get really excited at the prospect of bridesmaids' dresses.

So I was at my favourite haunt the other day, when I found a dress. The most hideous of hideous dresses. The fuggliest of fuggly garments. And I had to try it on. It was composed of a crinkley black velvet top, complete with shoulder pads, puffy sleeves and a neckline so high I thought I would stop breathing. The skirt was pretty much a plastic picnic blanket (crispy, plaid patterned, possible carcinogenic?). It had this frighteningly large satin bow on the bum. I tried it on, had a bit of a chuckle to myself, gawked at the $70 price tag, then proceeded to get undressed.

Shit. I'm stuck.

The problem with op shops is that obviously the sizing is the luck of the draw. I was silly, and didn't realise how small said ugly dress was. I was in the change room for a good ten minutes, wrestling with this abomination of fabric. There was no way I would pay for a seventy dollar dress, then walk around in public wearing an eighties fashion victim's imagination. I finally got it off, with much pulling and pulling, sucking in and wiggling.

A friend later said it was probably karma for making fun of the dress in the first place. I didn't realise that good deeds applied to garments, especially to ones that are so clearly fucked up.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Men + BBQ = Instantaneous Cooking Skills

Men are funny. You put them in the kitchen and they freak out massively. They pretend they don't know how to use a microwave (despite the fact that you saw them heating up their damp socks the night before with one of these marvellous inventions). They feign to not know the difference between an onion and garlic. All of a sudden, they forget where all the plates/oven trays/knives/tongs/cooking utensils are, just so that you have to come and help them anyway.

So, fair enough. Men are idiots. Absolutely gorgeous and irresistible, but idiots nonetheless.

But, put a man in front of a barbeque? All of a sudden, it's as if he's become the fourth Iron Chef (Japanese accent: "Eeeeye-on chef Auzzi!"). He gets enthusiastic about marinating sauces. He refuses to use anything but the finest virgin olive oil to lightly sauté his organic duck breast. It turns out that he's been keeping a stash of rather fancy cooking utensils in the garage that are apparently too good for indoor cooking use.

Perhaps my male counterparts are secretly rather domestic but would rather us not know. Most likely because if we knew, they would be the ones doing all the cooking. But somehow, the presence of a massive fire, a huge tank of gas, copious amounts of alcohol and being outdoors releases the inner Jamie Oliver.

PS: I used to consistently burn my ex-boyfriend's revolting steaks to a crisp, in hopes that he would just get off his arse and cook his own dinner. I did this for about two years before I heard about this fantastic thing called 'breaking up'.

PPS: I used the same trick on my parents, in which I would make really weak watery tea with way too much milk. It was a pretty disgusting beverage all up, and they soon learnt to get my brother to fulfil all hot beverage tasks. Good parents...

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

"But I saw it on A Current Affair, so it must be true!"

Um.. more like I saw it on A Current Affair, so I'm pretty sure it's bullshit. A lovely customer tries to return a fuggly pair of shoes to me. The conversation goes something like this:

Stupid customer: I'd like to return these.
Bored salesperson: We don't refund, but I can give you a gift certificate.
Irritating customer: No, I want my money back.
Apathetic salesperson: What's wrong with them. Besides being hideous.
Annoying customer: I don't like them.
Unconcerned salesdrone: But they match your hideousness. We don't refund non-faulty items.
Whiny customer: But you can't say that!
Fed up salesperson: I just did.
Know-it-all: I'm pretty sure it's illegal to tell me you can't give me a refund.
Big-ball-of-meh: Oh, really.
Bothersome customer: Yes. I saw it on A Current Affair. So it must be true.
Dead-panned salesperson: Listen, lady. I've worked in retail for almost a decade. I ain't gotta give you anything unless it's broke. A'ight?
Obtuse person: But I saw it on the TV! A Current Affair did a story on it!

It astounds me that people believe what they see on the television when most of it is make-believe. Even more so when they admit it. Even more amazing is the fact that this marvellous example of intelligence hasn't been run over by a bus... yet.

Epilogue: Said customer was given a gift certificate and the website address for Consumer Affairs Victoria. A Current Affair continues to create accurate and riveting news pieces. This author is now married to a rockstar and lives in a mansion with five pet iguanas.